


Sympathy and Support

by Kalira



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Supportive Partners, Understanding, hair petting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalira/pseuds/Kalira
Summary: Hikaru offers his partner support after a rough day.
Relationships: Shindou Hikaru/Touya Akira
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	Sympathy and Support

**Author's Note:**

> Written yesterday evening/into the night after _I_ had a rough day - though sadly not so easily fixed as Touya's - and needed some fluff. I rolled a random number from [this list](https://kalira9.tumblr.com/post/188857158084/ma-sulevin-bucky-plums-barnes-50-clich%C3%A9) to write for these boys, as I'm currently watching the anime (for the first time; after at least eight times through rereading the manga).

Hikaru huffed a laugh, barely keeping it quiet, as he heard the _flumph_ of someone flopping onto their couch. He fiddled with his ramen for a moment, then left it on the counter and peeked out into the main room. He could see Akira’s argyle-socked feet trailing off one arm of the couch.

It was unusual for his lover to be so . . . careless with his movements, he thought it was _mannerless_. Even in their home. Hikaru went out to see what had him so frustrated with the world.

“What’s eating you?” Hikaru asked, running his fingers over Akira’s ankle.

“Hm? Oh, Hikaru! No, it’s. . . I’m all right.” Akira smiled at him, a little faint, as he shifted and began to sit up. Akira was far too skilled at giving polite, perfect smiles - not _empty_ , for Akira very much put himself into his manners, but somewhat distant - but Hikaru could always see through them. “I’m sorry, anata, is there-”

Hikaru tapped at his calf lightly, moving around the couch. He trailed a hand over Akira’s stomach and chest as he passed, and Akira stopped trying to rise.

Hikaru nudged Akira up a little more anyway and squeezed into place at one end of the couch, folding one leg up beneath the other. Akira lay down again as soon as Hikaru was comfortably settled there, head nestling against his thighs as Akira almost mumbled something about his new student, and Hikaru ran his fingers through his lover’s hair gently.

“That bad?” Hikaru asked, toying with the silky strands. Akira had finally abandoned his pageboy cut several years ago, and his hair now fell past his collarbones, twining around Hikaru’s fingers when he played with it this way.

Akira sighed. Hikaru rubbed his temple, caress sliding past his ear to ruffle his hair a bit before smoothing it out again.

“I knew he was going to be a problem.” Akira said, the corners of his lips tugging down. He was trying not to say anything else too _rude_ , Hikaru knew.

“It’s just me.” Hikaru said quietly, poking Akira between his brows.

Akira opened his eyes. “Mm?”

“I am _way_ worse than you’ll ever be.” Hikaru grinned. “So tell me. _Complain._ ” he drew it out playfully, then smiled more softly. “If you can talk to _anyone_ it should be me, right?”

Akira actually smiled at that, eyes softening. He sighed. “He’s _awful_. Not just as a player, his attitude. . . Oh Hikaru, he’s. . .” Akira’s face twisted, and Hikaru stroked his hair again, smoothing out the long strands. “He has no respect for the game.”

Hikaru huffed, eyes narrowing, and rubbed a hand over Akira’s side lightly. He had been instilled with something like Sai’s devotion to the game . . . or, at least, his _respect_ for it, and he could stand for nothing those who disparaged it with their words or worse, their behaviour. Akira had learned similarly at his father’s side, his whole life devoted to the game. A student who had no respect. . .

Hikaru shook his head. A very poor choice to send to Akira . . . unless Katou had been _trying_ to aggravate him, which was unfortunately all too likely. Hikaru let his fingertips trail down Akira’s neck, humming softly as his fingers splayed out over his lover’s slender collarbones, sliding beneath his shirt.

Akira relaxed a little, drawing a deep breath. Hikaru frowned slightly, raising his hand once more and rubbing at Akira’s temples, shifting a little and drawing his lover’s hair out across his thigh.

He pursed his lips. “Ne . . . Akira, koibito?” he said softly, and Akira tilted his head, opening his eyes. “Shall I take him?”

Akira’s eyes widened with startlement. “Hikaru?”

Hikaru couldn’t tolerate disrespect for the game any more than his lover could, but Akira was worn thin already right now . . . and Hikaru wouldn’t mind showing Katou up a little, the jerk. Hikaru was also louder about meeting an unruly or disrespectful student with blunt rebuff than his lover. While no less bold, and certainly no less determined, Akira was quieter about such things - meaning it skated past some people.

Hikaru had a way of making himself and his feelings impossible to miss or ignore, he knew - he’d certainly been reprimanded or disliked enough times over it. He reiterated his offer, toying with the loose length of Akira’s hair.

“Oh, Hikaru, I couldn’t ask that you do that. . .” Akira shook his head, sinking down a little more.

“You’re not asking.” Hikaru said gently, trailing the backs of his fingers up Akira’s cheek. “It’s an offer. I can take his lessons. You have more than enough to do already.”

Of course, that was always the case - for himself and for Akira - but it made a neat reason when students needed to be passed off with something less rude or _final_ than an outright refusal, though a pro could always offer one. With or without a stated reason.

“You wouldn’t like him any more than I do.” Akira said with a sigh.

Hikaru hummed. “No doubt.” he agreed with a shrug. Then he bent and kissed Akira’s brow. “But I’ll do it, koibito.”

Akira wavered as Hikaru straightened, and he remained silent, waiting, busying his fingers in Akira’s hair once more. Akira nestled into him. The motion looked a little less like a miserable attempt to hide away this time, however, and Hikaru smiled.

“No, thank you, anata.” Akira said, and smiled at him. He reached up, fingers trailing over Hikaru’s cheek, then brushing his chin. “It . . . helps, though.”

Hikaru shifted carefully, folding his other leg up onto the couch, and Akira shifted up as well, cuddling into his lap a little more. Hikaru looped an arm around him. “Aa. . . Let me know if you change your mind, then, right?”

Akira smiled, eyes softening further. “Of course. Thank you, Hikaru.” he said again, and leaned into Hikaru. He closed his eyes.

“Shall we play a game?” Hikaru asked, winding a lock of Akira’s hair around his fingers.

It was a largely rhetorical question in their home, as the answer was always-

“Yes!” Akira smiled, curling his fingers loosely around Hikaru’s wrist. “. . .ah, Hikaru, what were you doing in the kitchen when I got home, anyway?”

“Oh.” Hikaru had mostly forgotten about that. “I was making instant ramen!”

Akira jerked up out of his lap, eyes snapping open. “Hikaru! Have you forgotten-”

“Na, na, I didn’t actually cook it yet!” Hikaru defended himself, flapping his hands. “I didn’t leave anything on!”

Akira shook his head, but he relaxed a bit. “Honestly, Hikaru. Go make your ramen and then,” he paused, lips quirking. “then we’ll play.”

“Yah!” Hikaru agreed, and unfolded his legs hurriedly. He paused, leaning over for a quick kiss, then bounced to his feet to head back into the kitchen.


End file.
